


On the Doorstep

by Mireille



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: 5 Times, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: maleslashminis, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-06
Updated: 2007-05-06
Packaged: 2019-03-17 09:16:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13656006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille/pseuds/Mireille
Summary: Five times Wesley turned up on Giles and Xander's doorstep.





	On the Doorstep

**one**  
  
There was a long list of people Xander wouldn't have been surprised to see standing on their doorstep in the middle of the night. Well, technically it was Giles' doorstep, but there was this thing Xander was trying where he took Giles at his word and considered this his home, even if he was gone for months at a time.   
  
Wesley wasn't anywhere on the list.   
  
Xander had come halfway down the stairs, just in case whatever was at the door had meant Giles needed backup. Close enough to see, but not to hear anything until Wesley was already inside and Giles was saying, "I'll make some tea."  
  
That was Xander's cue to come the rest of the way downstairs. "Who is it?" he said, just like he hadn't seen.   
  
"Only me," Wesley said, and Xander was only a little disappointed that Wesley didn't seem shocked to see him here.   
  
  


***

  
  
Xander had figured out within a few minutes that Wesley was less "not surprised to see a shirtless and barefoot Xander in Giles' kitchen," and more "not paying attention." Clearly, something major must have happened to bring him here, which led to the question of why Wesley would come  _here_  when it had.   
  
Which led to Xander thinking he should probably stop thinking altogether, before he did something really stupid like get jealous of Wesley.   
  
"I'm intruding," Wesley said, leaving his tea untouched and pushing back from the table. It was the first thing he'd said in at least five minutes. He looked from Giles to Xander and back again, and maybe Xander wasn't the only one trying not to get jealous.   
  
 _Yeah, you are_ , Xander wanted to say, but there was the "trusting Giles to mean what he says" thing again, so instead he swallowed hard. "Don't be dumb."   
  
  


***

  
  
After listening to Wesley's story, Xander was starting to think that maybe he had come to the right place after all. At least, if he was looking for people who weren't going to automatically take Angel's side.   
  
"He must have believed there was a compelling reason--" Giles began, but he sounded doubtful.   
  
"To  _wipe people's memories_?" Xander cut in. "It would have to have been an apocalypse-sized reason."  
  
"I'm not denying that," Giles said firmly, and Xander saw Wesley's shoulders slump in something that could have been relief.   
  
"I didn't come here for sympathy," Wesley said.   
  
"Why  _did_  you come here?" Giles asked; Xander was glad it wasn't him asking that particular question. It sounded a little less hostile coming from Giles.  
  
Wesley looked over at Xander again before saying, "I have no idea," which left Xander a little less glad that the question had been asked at all.  
  
  


***

  
  
"I should go," Wesley said finally. Xander glanced at the clock; it was eight in the morning. Wesley had spent most of the night explaining everything that had been going on in Los Angeles; they'd only got a few vague details from when Willow had gone there last year, and now it turned out that some of that had been forgotten.   
  
And sometime during the night, Xander had stopped caring that Wesley had obviously been expecting to find Giles by himself, and just started listening.   
  
"You're not going back to LA," Xander said; it was only halfway a question.   
  
"No," Wesley said; then, as though the idea had just occurred to him, "No," more definitely.   
  
Xander shrugged, and then, surprising himself, he said, "Then you could stick around here for a while."  
  
"I don't think so," Wesley said, his expression closing off again, and neither Xander or Giles pushed it.   
  


* * *

  
  
 **two**  
  
Xander wasn't even really surprised, this time.   
  
The Council had heard about what had happened in Los Angeles; neither of them had believed that Wesley wasn't going back. When Wesley's name wasn't listed among the dead, though, Xander found himself expecting that Wesley would turn up at home, eventually.   
  
And it  _was_  home now; Xander had gone back to Africa a few days after Wesley's visit, but he'd been back in England two weeks later, after he'd managed to break his leg, which meant a few months off field assignment.   
  
It also meant that it took him forever to struggle out of the car, especially since he refused to let Giles help him, so Giles was the first one to see the figure on their doorstep.   
  
Xander looked up at Giles' quiet, "He's alive, Xander."  
  
He  _was_  a little surprised to find out that he was glad to see Wesley.   
  
  


***

  
  
At least this time Wesley wasn't giving him strange looks, Xander thought. He asked Xander a few questions--about Africa, about his leg, about trivia, really--and then fell silent, although he answered them when either of them asked him a question.   
  
Giles cooked dinner; they ate in the living room, because it was more comfortable for Xander to sit with his leg propped on a footstool, and that made things feel less awkward, Xander thought. It gave them somewhere to look besides one another.   
  
Giles had been sitting next to Xander, which kept any vague feelings of jealousy that Xander might have thought about having firmly under control.   
  
When Wesley finally started talking, though, in a voice that sounded like it was coming from a long way away, Giles got up and went over to him, putting his hand on Wesley's shoulder.   
  
Xander found he didn't mind at all.   
  
  


***

  
  
"Is there anything I can help you with?" Wesley said, and Xander shook his head.   
  
"No," he said. Then, because he figured it would be only natural for Wesley to think Xander wanted to get rid of him--natural, but not true--he went on, "I'm good. I can get around pretty well on these." He waved at the crutches propped up next to him. And okay, "pretty well" was an exaggeration, but he could get around on them.   
  
"All right," Wesley said, turning to leave the room. He spent most of his time in his room when Xander was home and Giles wasn't.  
  
"Hey," Xander began, before realizing that he didn't know how to finish. If he started with  _I know about you and Giles back in Sunnydale,_  Wesley would probably be gone before Xander got to,  _and it's okay._    
  
"I'm bored," he said at last. "Keep me company?"   
  


***

  
  
"I won't be staying long," Wesley said, and Xander didn't have to know how to spell  _non sequitur_  to know one when he heard it.   
  
"Do you have anywhere else to go?" The words were barely out of his mouth before he realized they were wrong, that what he was meant to be saying was,  _Hey, look, Giles wants you to stay, even if he's not saying it, and it turns out I'm pretty okay with that._    
  
More than just "pretty okay," if he was being honest. It was Xander who'd spent hours listening to Wesley talk about everything that had happened in Los Angeles or trying to keep Wesley distracted when it was obvious he didn't want to think any more. Maybe it was only natural that he'd found a lot to like about Wesley.  
  
But Wesley said, "I'll find somewhere," and that was apparently going to be that.   
  


* * *

  
  
 **three**  
  
Things between them were going well, although Xander was afraid to say too much to anyone in fear of jinxing it. They'd stopped referring to Xander's time in England as "medical leave," and more as "reassignment," because it had become totally obvious to both of them that Xander wasn't going to be gone for weeks and months at a time any more.   
  
They'd both stopped expecting Wesley to come back.   
  
Rupert had told Xander he'd offered Wesley a job with the Council, and Wesley had turned him down; that had been the last reason Xander could think of that would bring Wesley around again.   
  
And since they hadn't seen him in six months, there probably weren't any reasons that he hadn't thought of, either.   
  
So when the doorbell rang, Xander figured it would be someone from the Council, or one of the neighbors, or somebody selling magazines.   
  
He was wrong.   
  
  


***

  
  
"My father's dead," Wesley said, and Rupert nodded.  
  
"I heard."  
  
Xander hadn't, but there wasn't a lot of reason for him to. Roger Wyndam-Pryce didn't work for the Council any more, and Xander didn't  _know_  him. So he just nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging manner and listened to Wesley talk about where he'd been for the last six months.   
  
Home, it sounded like, at least for the past couple; from what Xander could put together, it sounded like Wesley had been avoiding home for years because of his father, so this was the first time he'd visited since he'd left for Sunnydale.   
  
"I hate to admit it," Wesley said finally, "but he's the reason why I turned down your job offer. I didn't want to--" He broke off. "It was a ridiculous reason, now that I think about it."   
  
Rupert smiled. "Does that mean you're reconsidering?"  
  
  


***

  
  
"What am I supposed to say?" Xander demanded. "'Hey, Wesley, not only am I totally okay with you staying in our spare room, and fine with the fact that you used to fuck my boyfriend, but I'm curious to know what you think about threesomes?' You know him better than I do," he went on. "You should be the one to talk to him."   
  
"He won't believe you're in favor of it if it comes from me," Rupert said.   
  
" _I_  don't believe I'm in favor of it," Xander pointed out, shaking his head. "I know, this was my idea, and I  _am_  in favor of it, I just--this is pretty good. Us, I mean. And I'm happy the way things are. I just think they'd be better if--"  
  
"I'm not the one you need to convince, Xander." Rupert kissed him then, and Xander knew he'd lost the argument.   
  
  


***

  
  
"I've found a flat," Wesley said at dinner. He was smiling, which Xander was in favor of; Wesley didn't smile enough, even now.   
  
But he was moving out, which Xander was  _not_  in favor of. And Rupert was going to tell him it was his own fault for not talking to Wesley like he should have.   
  
Rupert might even be right, but what was Xander supposed to do? Maybe Rupert knew the best way to ask somebody if he wanted to have sex with you  _and_  your boyfriend, with an option to make it a regular thing, but Xander had no clue.   
  
If they were cavemen, they could club Wesley over the head and tie him to the bedposts; then, when he woke up, they could  _show_  him what they meant.   
  
But they weren't, and so the only thing Xander could think to say was, "I'm not helping you move."   
  


* * *

  
  
 **four**  
  
Xander grinned as he opened the door. "Hey, Wes." He was going to keep this completely normal, he thought. If Wesley thought he was nervous, then Wesley was going to think he didn't like the idea, and he did--at least, if Wesley was interested.   
  
And he thought Wesley might be. Xander was pretty sure he looked decent tonight; he was wearing the clothes he'd gotten Buffy to pick out for him the first time he'd gone out to dinner with Rupert. (She'd forgiven him for not telling her who his date had been with, eventually. She'd probably even get over  _this_  in time.)   
  
And so, when Wesley's eyes lingered on him a few seconds too long when Xander let him in--and when Xander still thought he felt Wesley watching him as he led the way into the kitchen--Xander thought they had a pretty good chance of success.   
  
  


***

  
  
Rupert wasn't big on public displays of--no, that wasn't right, because there had been that time Xander had dragged him out on a picnic, and... okay, maybe it would be safer to say that Rupert wasn't big on displays of affection in front of people they knew. Especially people who might be made uncomfortable by them.   
  
So if Xander hadn't known this was part of the plan, he'd have been stunned when Rupert pulled him close, kissing him like Xander had been away for weeks.  
  
Wesley didn't have any advance warning, and he was definitely stunned.   
  
Not as stunned as he was when Xander said, "We can't let you feel left out," and kissed him just as deeply, though.   
  
For a second, Xander was worried that this had been a bad idea; then Wesley kissed him back, and that plus Rupert's approving murmurs were all the reassurance he needed.   
  
  


***

  
  
Just once, Xander wanted to seduce somebody who didn't try talking him out of it. First Rupert had tried to convince him that he was too old, and now Wesley--  
  
"You can't have thought this through," Wesley said. His shirt was unbuttoned--Rupert's doing--and so was the button on his jeans--that, Xander thought smugly, was all his own work--but he was still standing next to the bed, instead of on it where he belonged.   
  
"We have," Xander said. "Thought it through. Talked it through." He grinned. "Demonstrated to each other exactly what we wanted to do to you."   
  
Rupert chuckled. "So you see, the only argument that's going to convince us is the one where you tell us that  _you_  don't want this."  
  
Wesley shrugged, letting his shirt slide down past his shoulders, and Xander grabbed his hand to pull him down to the bed with them.   
  
  


***

  
  
Wesley was gone? Wesley, who had gone to sleep with his head on Rupert's shoulder and his legs tangled with Xander's--they should probably get a king-sized bed soon--was  _gone_?   
  
"Maybe we freaked him out," Xander said to Rupert, who was drinking tea and looking at the newspaper and not looking nearly concerned enough.   
  
"He's been through a lot in the past few years--" Rupert began.   
  
"So when something  _good_  finally happens, he freaks out?" Xander interrupted, then paused. "Except from what he said about the stuff that happened in LA, the last time something good happened, everything went to hell about thirty seconds afterward. So yeah, maybe he panicked."   
  
"And perhaps," Wesley said from behind Xander, "he popped out to buy milk, since yours had gone off, but please, do continue the amateur psychoanalysis."  
  
But when Xander turned around, Wesley was smiling, so that was all right.   
  


* * *

  
  
 **five**  
  
  
"Did you not hear me telling you that I'm not going to help you move?" Xander said, although the effect was ruined by the stack of boxes in his arms. "Also, where did you get all this junk? You were only on your own for what, three months?"   
  
"It was all in storage," Wesley pointed out, slipping past Xander to peer at the labels on the cartons he was carrying. "That goes in the bedroom," he said, taking the top two boxes from Xander's stack. "I'll put these in the library."   
  
"Books," Xander muttered. "We are never moving again, because you two have  _way_  too many books. I'd rather move boxes of cement blocks."   
  
At least this was the last load; all of Wesley's boxes were in the house now. Rupert had made room for Wesley's books in the library, and the rest of Wesley's stuff was in what had been the spare bedroom and was now Wesley's room. They'd decided that while they'd all probably wind up in Rupert's bed most of the time, and somebody would have to give up his room if they had guests, anyway, it wouldn't hurt for each of them to have their own space.   
  
By the time Xander put the box in Wesley's room and came back downstairs, Wesley was back outside, checking the rented van to make sure nothing had been left behind. They had the van overnight; they could take it back in the morning on their way to work.   
  
Xander leaned against the doorway, grinning at Wesley. "Rupert's going to stick all your books on the hard-to-reach shelves, you know," he said. "You'd better come inside and set him straight."   
  
And this time, when Wesley walked in, Xander was pretty sure he wasn't leaving again. At least, not without them.

**Author's Note:**

> [me on tumblr](https://mireille719.tumblr.com)


End file.
